Tatyana woke up at 6:45 — as always, by the alarm clock. Monday.
The kitchen smelled of oatmeal — her grandmother was already up. Life went on as usual: ninth grade, lessons, homework, rare meetings with friends.
It would seem that everything was like everyone else. But in reality, it was a little different.
Since childhood, Tatyana knew one thing that was repeated to her more than once: her father was a hero, died before she was born. So said her mother. So said her grandmother. And it was easy to believe it. They told this story without unnecessary details, but with a special trepidation in their voices, as if it were a sacred secret that could not be touched. Her father was a “real man”, he “left too early”, and she was his “main legacy”.
This story became a protective shell for her. It was easier to live behind it. It could be told to classmates — without shame, even with a bit of pride. Some people’s fathers beat them, others disappeared altogether, and for hers, it was a hero who died for the Motherland. Sometimes images from movies would pop into her head: a man in uniform, a determined look, saying goodbye to family before a battle. Fantasy replaced reality.
After school, Tatyana often helped her grandmother – she went to the store, carried groceries. Grandmother was getting old, her legs often failed her. They had dinner together, at a small table. These evenings were filled with peace, but so fragile that it seemed – one wrong move, and everything would collapse.
And the destruction happened suddenly.
The disease took her mother quickly. First – general weakness, then – pain, an ambulance, examinations. The diagnosis – oncology. A word that breaks the familiar world. Lena hid the truth as long as she could. But when it became impossible, Tatyana began to take care of her mother: she held her hand in the ward, learned to cook, got certificates, called doctors. All this at the age of fourteen. Her childhood ended prematurely.
Mom died quietly, almost imperceptibly – she simply stopped breathing one night when Tatyana dozed off, resting her head on the edge of the bed.
After the funeral, she did not cry. Not right away. It seemed that this was not happening to her. That her mother had simply left and was about to return. In the evenings, Tatyana caught herself thinking that she was waiting for familiar footsteps in the hallway. But no one broke the silence.
Grandmother became her guardian. All the formalities were completed according to the law – documents, payments, benefits. Svetlana Petrovna held on with all her might. She cooked, washed, ironed, hugged. And every evening she repeated:
– Mom is now with us – looking from heaven. You are not alone, Tanechka. We are together.
But this “together” was becoming more and more fragile. The house became colder, even when the radiators were hot. Emptiness filled the rooms, even when they were both inside. Tatyana sat for hours by the window, looking at the street lamp – the only constant light in her life. As if the answers were hidden there, in the beam.
One evening, when Grandma was ironing clothes, and Tatyana was pretending to read a textbook, a question that had been brewing inside for a long time burst from her chest:
– Why did Mom and Dad… both die?
Her voice trembled. It was not a question – a cry of pain. Words that she said out loud, for the first time, to check: are they really real? Or maybe this pain is just a dream?
Grandma shuddered, lowered the iron. A pause. Then a look – full of anxiety.
– Sometimes it happens. People leave early. But we are alive. You have to move on.
“They both died.” These words became a new spell for Tatyana. She repeated them over and over again, as if she hoped to understand the meaning. But somewhere deep in her soul, a suspicion was already growing – something was bothering her.
The morning began as usual. Tatyana came to school early, in a worn jumper knitted by her grandmother. The air was sharp from the autumn cold, her fingers were frozen on the way.
But it was strange in the building. They were looking at her. That is, they really were looking. Some looked away, some whispered. The teachers avoided her gaze. Her friends behaved unnaturally.
During the break, Nastya, the favorite of school rumors, approached her. With a mixture of sympathy and curiosity, she said:
— Listen, Tanyusha… Just don’t be offended, okay?.. But do you know that your dad… didn’t die?
Her heart stopped.
— What do you mean?
— Well, my mom saw some tramp in the park. He called himself Pavel. He said he used to be with your mom. Like… your dad.
The words fell into the void. “Alive.” “Pavel.” “Homeless.”
At home, in the evening, Tatyana demanded the truth. Her voice was sharp, almost adult – like a person who had been deceived.
At first, her grandmother tried to distract her, to avoid the conversation. But Tatyana did not back down.
And then Svetlana Petrovna sat down on the sofa and told her everything. Slowly. Without embellishment.
Pavel was Lena’s childhood friend. They grew up in the same village, loved each other. He went into the army and promised to return. Six months later, a letter arrived – cold, heartless. He refused Lena and the child. He asked her to forget him.
Lena could not stay in her native place. She left for the city, hiding her pregnancy, starting her life anew. Tatyana was born there. Pavel never showed up again. Lena did not look for him – there was nothing to forgive.
Then they heard that he got married and worked. Then – life turned upside down.
It turned out that he hadn’t just lost his senses. He was part of a dangerous game. He was trying to get to her father, the regional governor, through Maria. His group had planned to stage the girl’s disappearance in order to blackmail her father into signing documents for a major construction project.
— He said, “Your dad will sign if he decides you’re dead,” Maria was speaking calmly now, but her gaze remained shocked.
They were standing on the shore. At some point, Anton checked his phone and muttered:
— That’s it. It’s time. Dead men don’t talk.
And he pushed her into the water.
— I didn’t even have time to scream… But someone heard. It was you, Maria looked at Tatyana, and her eyes gleamed with gratitude that was impossible to express in words.
The next day, Tatyana brought Maria to her place. She gave her dry clothes, hot tea, and an old cell phone to contact her father.
The conversation was short and tense.
“Dad, it’s me. I’m alive. Don’t sign anything. It’s a trap. They wanted to use me…” the voice was shaking.
There was a long pause on the phone, then a scream, then silence again. And finally, a relieved:
“I’m coming.”
Two hours later, a black jeep pulled up to the house. A tall man in a formal coat got out. Seeing his daughter, he rushed to her, hugged her tightly, not hiding his tears.
“I almost went crazy…” he whispered.
Maria turned to Tatyana:
“It was she who saved me. Without her, I wouldn’t have survived…”
The governor slowly approached Tatyana. She hid her hands in the sleeves of her sweater, confused. He looked at her for a long time, as if he wanted to say something important, but only nodded. Then he left, holding his daughter tightly to him.
There were no interviews, no news headlines. But a new person appeared in Tatyana’s life – Maria. And this contact remained.
The school was getting ready for graduation. The last bell. Everyone was in dresses, with flowers, with ribbons. Tatyana was standing at the entrance. In her hands was a simple white ribbon. It seemed that no one was waiting for her. But she came.
When the famous song “about dads” sounded, she stayed aside. She did not look up. She just stood. But inside – there was no more pain. Only silence. Calm. Acceptance.
And then the audience noticed: she was entering – Maria. In a light dress, with a neat wave of hair, in shoes that she herself would not wear. On her hand – a thin bracelet, a smile on her face. All this – a gift from Tatyana.
– Let them see you as you are, – Maria said the day before.
When the celebration was coming to an end, the doors swung open. Sergey Nikolaevich, the governor of the region, entered. The audience froze. He confidently walked towards Tatyana. In his hands was a bouquet of red roses.
He held out the flowers. Silently. Then he leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.
– You are not a stranger to me.
The world froze. Teachers, students, parents – everyone was watching. Someone was whispering: “Who is she to him?” Someone was recording a video. Someone simply could not utter a word.
Tatiana turned to one of the girls, smiled and quietly said:
– He said that I am not a stranger to him.
And she left. Without running away. With dignity.
Since then, Tatyana and Maria have become inseparable friends. Now they often meet in the student cafeteria, discuss architecture and psychology, laugh, argue, dream – they simply live.